Some Demon E-Book

Laura Waldren

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 140

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

'People say life's too short, it's not. It's too bloody long. There's too much time and too many ways to fill it, all those hours in all those days, all those choices you have to make.' Sam's eighteen and her life's about to start. Zoe's forty-something and hers never did. They don't have much in common. Just a love of '80s new wave, and an illness that wants them dead. Thrown together in an eating disorder unit, their most intimate secrets exposed, they form a complicated bond. But when another patient turns the ward into chaos, they're forced to confront a difficult question: if an institution is the thing keeping you safe, how are you supposed to cope when you leave? Authentic, witty and profoundly compassionate, Laura Waldren's play Some Demon won the Papatango New Writing Prize and the Clive Richards Foundation Writer in Residence Bursary, and was first produced by Papatango Theatre Company at the Arcola Theatre, London, and Bristol Old Vic in 2024.

Leseprobe

Laura Waldren

SOME DEMON

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Original Production Details

Acknowledgements

Characters

Note on Play

Some Demon

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Some Demon was first produced by Papatango Theatre Company at Arcola Theatre, London, on 14 June 2024, with the following cast:

ZOE

Sirine Saba

LEANNE

Amy Beth Hayes

SAM

Hannah Saxby

NAZIA

Witney White

MARA

Leah Brotherhead

MIKE

Joshua James

Director

George Turvey

Set & Costume Designer

Anisha Fields

Lighting Designer

Rajiv Pattani

Sound Designer

Asaf Zohar

Producer

Chris Foxon

Costume Supervisor

Beth Qualter Buncall

Therapeutic Counsellor

Ranjith Devakumar (Ember Therapeutic Counselling)

Medical Consultant

Dr Erika Lόpez Moreno

Production Manager

Pete Rickards for eStage

Stage Manager

Iben Bering Sørensen

Assistant Stage Manager

Jamie Craker

Lighting Programmer & Production Electrician

Matthew Carnazza

Costume Assistant

Acknowledgements

Some Demon would never have been possible without a lot of people. Thank you to:

George and Chris at Papatango, for all their phenomenal work on the play, for believing in this story and bringing it to life

Sirine, Amy, Hannah, Witney, Leah and Josh, for being the best cast I could ever have hoped for

Anisha, Rajiv, Asaf, Beth, Pete, Lewis, Iben, Jamie, Matthew and Sophie, for all their extraordinary hard work and talent

Ranjith and Erika for their care and expertise

Kate Morley and Cameron Currie for all their brilliant work in getting the play out there

Everyone at the Arcola and Bristol Old Vic

Jess McVay, Emily Carewe & Atri Banerjee, for their friendship and unfailing support in first getting the project off the ground

All the incredible actors involved in workshops and R&Ds during the development process.

And finally, thank you to:

Euan Shanahan, for being my rock

Emily Cramphorn & Sally Mays, for providing light in the darkness

My dad, for trying his best

My mum, for never giving up hope

& everyone who saved my life.

L.W.

Characters

PATIENTS

ZOE, mid-forties, haunted by the past

SAM, eighteen, haunted by the future

NAZIA, thirties

MARA, thirties

STAFF

MIKE, key nurse, forties, wears a watch

LEANNE, key nurse, thirties/forties

Setting

A specialist adult eating-disorder unit.

The main space is the dining-meeting room. Basic, utilitarian – strip lights, wiry dark carpets, functional furniture. The only real touch of character is a mural of a tree covered in dozens of vivid green handprints, which covers one wall and lands us somewhere on the spectrum between a hospital ward and a primary school. A pile of blankets and cushions is heaped in one corner. One exit leads to the toilet. A clock keeps time with all the meetings. There’s a plastic jug of plastic flowers on the dining table. There’s one window, which is almost always shut.

Some scenes take place in the Treatment Room, in which there is assorted medical paraphernalia and a set of scales.

Note

A dash (–) at the end of a line indicates the point where one character interrupts another.

A slash (/) indicates the point where one character starts speaking over another.

An ellipsis (…) indicates a trailing off or an unfinished thought.

Words in [square brackets] are implied or intended, but not spoken.

‘Beat’ is short, ‘pause’ is longer, ‘silence’ is longer still. Long silences should be long.

Stage directions relating to when the patients sit down or stand up are important indicators of their emotional and mental states and should be observed in performance.

NB Ensure is pronounced EN-sure.

This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

ACT ONE

Preset

The dining-meeting room.

The rising sun pours in through the window, catches motes of dust.

Mild classical music plays from an old CD player.

On the table, the debris of a recently eaten meal.

A sense of peace and domesticity.

And a bowl, overturned in the middle of the floor.

Scene One

ZOE enters.

She’s carrying a box of cleaning supplies in one hand and a pouch of tobacco in the other.

She drops the box on the floor, chucks the tobacco on the counter, and goes over to the music player. Rifles through the limited CD selection – puts on something loud and driving, like ‘Atomic’ by Blondie.

She starts throwing stuff away.

Empty bottles of Ensure.

Those little plastic pots of marmalade and jam.

A couple of dippy eggshells.

Maybe bopping to the music slightly as she goes.

When this is done, she goes back over to the box, pulls out cleaning fluid and a cloth rag.

She turns into the room – sees the bowl.

Her face drops.

She comes up to it.

She kicks it away, revealing a sludge of Coco Pops and milk seeping into the carpet.

She stares at it for a moment, seething.

She goes offstage.

The music starts skipping.

After a few moments, ZOE returns with a dustpan and brush.

She delivers a swift smack to the CD player, righting it.

She tries to brush the Coco Pops into the dustpan but they’re all soggy and stuck to the carpet.

ZOE. Fuck’s sake.

She chucks the brush on the floor.

She goes and gets a rubber glove, puts it on, and starts picking off the Coco Pops one by one.

LEANNE enters. She’s carrying a ring binder, a plastic box labelled ‘KATIE’ and the air of someone overworked and in a hurry. She is mid-conversation with SAM, who follows behind. SAM is wearing a hospital wristband and pulling a suitcase.

LEANNE.…get through this quick as we can and get you settled in properly after – (Sees ZOE.) you’re still here?

ZOE. Did you know about this?

LEANNE. I’ve got to do / a bag search.

ZOE. This is the second morning in a row.

LEANNE. I’ve got to do a bag search.

ZOE looks up, sees SAM. LEANNE turns off the music.

ZOE. In here? Why aren’t you doing it in the bedroom?

LEANNE (putting a cloth on the mess). Katie hasn’t finished packing, looks like a bomb’s gone off, clothes and shoes and god-knows-what all over the floor –

ZOE. You can’t leave it like that Leanne, it’s gonna stain.

LEANNE. It’s a dark-blue carpet.

ZOE. Just give me a minute, alright.

LEANNE. I haven’t got a minute, it’s almost nine.

ZOE. But it’s Coco Pops, for fuck’s sake.

LEANNE (warning). Zoe –

ZOE. It’s brown sugary milk. Do you want to stink the place out and fill it with ants?

LEANNE. No but / this isn’t a priority right now and I’ve got a whole induction to get through so can we please just deal with it after the meeting so I can –

ZOE. Then I suggest you let me finish what I’m doing or get the Queen of Darkness in here to clean up her own bloody breakfast because this isn’t actually in the remit of –

LEANNE. ALRIGHT ALRIGHT FINE. Just get a shift on please.

LEANNE strips the ‘KATIE’ label off the plastic box and replaces it with a new one.

(To SAM.) Sorry about this. It’s not usually so chaotic it’s just admission and discharge days are always a nightmare, plus we’re short-staffed at the minute so it’s all a bit – bah! You know.

SAM. Sorry.

LEANNE. Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.

SAM. Sorry.

LEANNE (reacting to something offstage). Oh for – Nazia!

LEANNE marches back to the exit. SAM sneaks a curious look at ZOE.

NAZIA (from off). What?

LEANNE. Didn’t I just ask you to sit down?

NAZIA (from off). I’m sat!

LEANNE. Properly please, right back in the chair with your whole bum on it! (Returning.) It’s just Sam, right?

SAM. Sorry?

LEANNE. Just Sam, not Samantha or Samira or –

SAM. No, just Sam.

LEANNE (writing on the new label). Just… Sam. I used to have an Irish Setter called Sam. Well, Sammy. Bloody lovely he was. Had to have him put down in the end. Right, paperwork!

She rifles through her folder and thrusts a bit of paper at SAM.

First up’s the schedule. Obviously you’ll have your individual reviews and therapy and so on with Dr Varma, she’ll be your lead psychiatrist, but this is all the group stuff with myself and Mike. Everyone off bed rest has to attend group meetings, that’s non-negotiable, so keep a hold of that cos we don’t want to be chasing you round the building when you get off constant observation – NAZIA.

NAZIA (from off). WHAT.

LEANNE (to SAM). Stay where I can see you. (Exiting.) You’re doing it again!

NAZIA (from off). Oh my god, I haven’t even moved!

ZOE (gesturing to SAM). Leanne…!

But she’s gone.

Awkward pause.

ZOE changes the CD in the music player – puts on ‘Road to Nowhere’ by Talking Heads.

You won’t try anything will you? While she’s…

SAM. Oh, no.

ZOE. Cos you think she’s not looking but I swear she’s got eyes in the back of her head.

SAM. Ha.

Beat.

ZOE. I’m Zoe by the way.

She goes to shake hands then realises she’s still wearing the rubber glove – retracts.

SAM. I’m, er – Sam.

ZOE. Just Sam, right.

Another slightly longer awkward pause.

SAM fiddles with her hospital wristband. ZOE notices.

So have you / come from

SAM. Good song.

ZOE. Pardon?

SAM. Sorry, just – the song. It’s a good song. I mean I like Talking Heads.

Beat.

ZOE. How old are you?

SAM. Eighteen.

ZOE (impressed). And you like Talking Heads?

SAM. They’re my mum’s favourite band so we used to listen to them in the car –

LEANNE (from off). Sam can you get your bag ready on the table!

SAM. Er – yeah!

SAM struggles to pick up her suitcase. ZOE watches her for a moment.

ZOE. Do you want / some help?

SAM. It’s okay, I’ve got it.

She continues to struggle.

ZOE. Here, come on.

SAM. Honestly you don’t have to –

ZOE. I know I don’t.

SAM. But it’s really –

ZOE. Fuck me, what have you got in here, kettlebells?!

SAM. No –

ZOE. Because that’s definitely not allowed.

SAM. It’s books.

ZOE. Books? (Struggling.) Christ, feels like half a library –

SAM. Sorry, it’s – they’re for uni, I’m doing Philosophy so there’s like a lot of reading and –

ZOE (heaving it onto the table). I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Well, good you’ll have something to do, it can get pretty boring.

SAM. How long have you been in here?

LEANNE (re-entering). Sorry about that, getting pulled from absolute pillar to post this morning – oh well done.

ZOE. You’re welcome. (To SAM.) Longer than her.

LEANNE. What’s that?

ZOE. I’ve been here longer than you haven’t I Leanne?

LEANNE. Can you turn this off please?

ZOE. In and out. On and off.

LEANNE. / Zoe… Zoe.

ZOE. Like a sort of toxic relationship – what?

LEANNE. Can you turn the music off. It’s inappropriate.

ZOE. Inappropriate?

LEANNE (gesturing to SAM). ‘Road to Nowhere’?

ZOE. But she likes Talking Heads!

LEANNE (skeptical). Oh she does, does she?

ZOE. She just told me! (To SAM.) Go on, what’s your favourite song?

SAM. Er…

LEANNE. Zoe.

ZOE. ‘Psycho Killer’? ‘Burning Down the House’?

LEANNE. I’ve got to get through this.

ZOE. That’s Daniel Bedingfield.

LEANNE. I’ve got to get through the induction.

ZOE. Fine, fine…

With a conspiratorial eye-roll to SAM, ZOE turns off the music and resumes cleaning.

LEANNE (to SAM). First things first, any sharp objects? Tweezers razors penknives et cetera.

SAM. There’s a razor in the wash bag.

LEANNE. Now I will have to keep that locked. Do you need me to explain why or –

SAM. No, I know why.

LEANNE. Great. Any food, drink or chewing gum?

SAM. No.

LEANNE. Any liquid receptacles such as water bottles or hot-water bottles?

SAM. No.

LEANNE. Any cords, belts or plastic bags?

SAM. No.

LEANNE. And what are these?

SAM. Just calcium tablets. My mum made me pack them. She’s worried about my bones.

LEANNE. Right. I will have to run these past Dr Varma in case they’re not actually –

SAM. They genuinely are.

LEANNE. I’m not accusing you of lying, it’s just the policy.

SAM. No I know, I did tell her that, but…

LEANNE takes a stuffed animal, unzips it and starts rooting around inside. SAM turns away, suddenly tearful.

LEANNE. I am also going to have to take your phone. You can use it for an hour in the evenings once it’s been PAT-tested but only for texts, no internet or phone calls. If you need to ring someone you can schedule a slot on the communal phone.

ZOE notices SAM is crying.

I know that might seem strict but otherwise people spend all day talking to parents and partners and / so on

ZOE. Leanne.

LEANNE. And it starts to interfere with –

ZOE. Leanne.

LEANNE looks up.

LEANNE. Oh.

Sam? Do you need a tissue?

SAM. No I’m – sorry.

LEANNE. Don’t be sorry, I know it’s tough. Is this your first time?

SAM. I was in a children’s unit last year, but… it’s different, isn’t it.

LEANNE. I used to work in a children’s unit. It’s really not that different.

SAM. I just never thought I’d end up…

LEANNE. Yeah. Well, play your cards right and you’ll never have to again.

The clock ticks loudly. LEANNE looks at it.

Sam I’m really sorry to chivvy this along but –

SAM. It’s fine. I’m fine.

LEANNE. Are you sure?

SAM. Yeah. Sorry.

LEANNE (calls offstage). Right Nazia, in please, it’s almost nine!

LEANNE clears SAM’s stuff away. ZOE discreetly hands SAM a tissue, gives her a pat on the arm.

SAM. Thanks.

ZOE. No problem.

LEANNE. NAZIA!

ZOE (jumping). Jesus.

NAZIA (from off). Alright, alright, I’m coming…! Keep your hair on…

NAZIA enters.

What the hell is Katie doing? Have you seen what she’s wearing?

LEANNE. Is she out of the bedroom?

NAZIA. She’s running round reception covered in glitter with a great big pair of wings on. She looks insane.

ZOE. Nazia this is / Sam

NAZIA (crossing the room). Didn’t even get chance to brush my teeth you know, she’s been hogging the shower all morning.

ZOE. Wait don’t –

NAZIA steps straight in the puddle of milk and cleaning fluid.

NAZIA. Aw, what the fuck!

ZOE. Great.

NAZIA. What the fuck is this?!

LEANNE. Language.

ZOE. It’s Mara’s breakfast.

NAZIA. Gross! It’s all over my fucking sock!

LEANNE. What did I just say?

NAZIA. Well look!

ZOE. Don’t antagonise her okay, she’s having a stressful morning.

LEANNE (irritated). Yes thank you.

NAZIA (taking her sock off). This is disgusting. These are proper thermal slipper socks and everything.

LEANNE (to SAM, brandishing a cushion). Can you sit on this for me please.

SAM. Why?

LEANNE. Because you need something to cushion your bum.

SAM. I’m alright.

LEANNE. I have to insist / I’m afraid

NAZIA (re: ZOE’s cleaning fluid). What’s that you’ve been putting on there, is that bleach?

ZOE. Of course it’s not bleach.

NAZIA. Are you sure?

ZOE. We’re not allowed tweezers, do you think they’re gonna leave bottles of bleach lying around?

LEANNE. Guys can you come and sit down?

NAZIA. Well is it gonna burn my foot? I’ve got sensitive skin!

NAZIA heads for the exit.

LEANNE. Whoa whoa, where do you think you’re going?

NAZIA. I need to get a new sock!

LEANNE. There’s no time for that, we’re about to start.

NAZIA. Do you expect me to keep this on all morning? What if I get trench foot?

LEANNE. You won’t get trench foot for god’s sake, sit down.

NAZIA. She’s not sat down!

LEANNE. Zoe you sit down as well!

ZOE. I’m cleaning this!

LEANNE (to SAM). See what I mean? Just like a children’s unit!

Suddenly, MARA storms into the room, followed by MIKE. She seems to bring with her an entirely new atmosphere.

MIKE. Let’s take seats please.

Everyone immediately comes and sits down. MARA stares at the floor and compulsively jiggles one leg. She’s clearly been crying.

The group waits in silence while MIKE watches the clock. SAM doesn’t really know what’s going on.

LEANNE leans over and puts her hand on MARA’s knee. With great difficulty, she stops jiggling.

Okay, it’s nine o’clock. Good morning everyone and welcome to Morning Meeting.

ALL except SAM and MARA. Good morning.

MIKE. First up, parish notices. Nazia’s review has been moved to next Thursday at four –

NAZIA. Oh what!

MIKE. Sorry, there’s too much going on this week.

NAZIA. For god’s sake…

MIKE. Zoe’s on Cleaning Duty until Friday, thank you Zoe. And as you can see we have a new resident joining us today. Everyone please give a very warm welcome to Sam.

ALL except MARA. Welcome Sam.

Small smattering of applause round the circle. MARA doesn’t join in.

MIKE. Does anyone want to explain the Rules of Engagement?